nano_arionrhod (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} nano_arionrhod) wrote,@ 2004-11-01 06:14:00 |
|
Prologue
Prologue
Word Count: 2534
Remus Lupin often thought that his life was a study in circles.
His life seemed to move in circles, at any rate, with ups and downs, peaks and valleys along the way, but always eventually leading him precisely, inevitably back to where he had begun. He had started out as a child with very few friends because of his curse, then had gone to Hogwarts and, miraculously, gained friendship in full measure. After nine happy years, however, he was left ripped asunder, devastated, and - once more - without companionship. A circle of sorrow.
The same cycle was true of his various attempts to support himself throughout his adult life. Each new job was held for some variable but usually brief time, until his condition was discovered or his absences due to illness caused him to once more enter the ranks of the unemployed. He had done so many different types of work over the years that he could no longer recall them all, could no longer remember how many different places he had labored at nor how many different, nameless faces had given him the sack, with expressions varying from disgust to vague pity. For an intelligent man who wanted desperately to be self-sufficient, who wanted to be accepted on the basis of what he could do, rather than what he was, it was both frustrating and extremely disheartening; a circle of humiliation.
Of lovers Remus had had relatively few, especially for a single man of his age who was not unattractive and extremely well read. His penurious circumstances had something to do with it, certainly, but so did his own selectivity in his partners. It wasn't just that he was gay, but that he felt honor-bound to reveal his lycanthropy before becoming intimate with someone, not wishing to face the horror of trying to explain after the fact that he was a Dark Creature to someone who might be interested in developing a longer term relationship with him. His average, he figured, was about fifty percent, between those who retained a desire to have sex with him after finding out that he was a werewolf and those who were completely repulsed. Of course even getting to the point to where he would confess his condition to a potential partner was somewhat problematic; therefore he was denied not only companionship, but the physical release that most humans took for granted as a normal, natural part of their lives. A circle of intense loneliness.
All of these dizzying repetitions, however, revolved in a circle all their own, whose center was a great, ghostly orb in the sky; a fickle, inescapable mistress who owned his soul as she owned his body once every month. Ever changing in her appearance and yet always there, always present, always haunting him and hunting him no matter how fast he ran or how hard he tried to hide.
Remus could remember a time when he had been quite small, sitting with his parents on the shores of a quiet, secluded lake, looking out across the still expanse of night-dark water and watching the full moon rise in silvery splendor, reflected double in the mirror of the water below. The soft light had seemed magical, fascinating, enchanting, making him reach up with one small, childish hand as though he could capture the radiant orb in his fist, pull it down from the sky and put it in his pocket like a vast, secret treasure. Of course that had been nothing but a silly, childish whimsy, an innocent dream from a time in his life before the silver orb came to symbolize not magic, but death, denial, and despair.
After all these years Remus knew the phases of it like the beating of his own heart, like the pulsing of his blood; could feel it as it rose, no matter what time of the day or night, no matter the season or the weather or the phase of her inconstant face. If he were alone in the silent woods, he could close his eyes and point unerringly to where the distant globe dwelt in the sky, like a compass finding north, drawn inexorably to it. His bane, his torment, his curse... the cold, pale goddess that ruled his life in an unchanging rhythm.
Were he a different man, a man who took less joy in living, or one who found less wonder in the rest of the world and its people, Remus would find it so incredibly easy to do what so many of his kind did - end their lives, removing the torment which plagued them, unable to live with the beast they became, with the hate and suspicion of the world of Men and the world of Wizards. But those people, though misguided, were more noble - or so he had always thought - than the ones who gave in to the savagery, let it control them, dominate them; used it as an excuse to be as brutal the rest of the time as they were when the pale goddess pulled the beast forth from their bodies and set it free to ravage under Her light.
Then there were the few like himself, who viewed their lycanthropy as a disease, a curse, a torment... but did not see it as the end of their lives. It was merely something to be lived with, to be dealt with when at hand and ignored - as best as possible - the rest of the time. It was what they became, but not who they were, not inside where it truly mattered, not in their hearts and minds and souls. But it still meant a separation, a loneliness from which he had known respite so rarely that he felt he could count the occasions on the fingers of one hand, and have fingers left over.
It was not surprising, of course, that Remus' boggart took the form of the moon. What person would not fear a cold, heartless force of nature which wracked their body with pain, stripped them of their humanity, and set free horrific, primal urges which drove them to maim and kill? The moon that haunted his days and made his nights restless, filling them with agonizing dreams in which he hurt those around him, the people that he loved. Was it any wonder that his inner demons were spawned by the external power which drove him, changed him, destroyed and remade him every twenty-nine days in a rhythm as inescapable as the tides or the change of seasons? Remus decided that any lycanthrope who didn't fear the moon as he did must be evil indeed. Evil, or at least completely insane.
The single thing which made his curse at once bearable and yet at the same time completely maddening was its predictability, the cycle as regular it was undeniable, as foreseeable as it was compulsory. Remus knew to the minute when the Change would begin, knew the warning signs with a familiarity that bred not contempt but resignation. The Wolfsbane potion - when he could get it - allowed him to keep his mind, but it did nothing to take away the agony of his transformation. Still he would rather have it than go without it, not so much because it allowed him to retain his awareness - although that certainly was preferable to the alternative - but because it meant that he wasn't a danger to anyone else.
Not all the circles in his life were bad, certainly: the cycle which had completed with Voldemort's destruction, his final, ultimate destruction at the hands of Harry Potter was certainly worth celebrating. While Voldemort's death could not undo the evils that had been done nor bring back those who had fallen, it did, at least, bring a certain amount of closure to some unresolved issues in Remus' life. A resolution which had been long and painful in the coming to be sure, but welcome nonetheless. A circle finally closed, never to repeat again.
After the Dark Lord's fall, Remus was even the focus of some small, fleeting bit of fame as a hero of the Order of the Phoenix, an unusual circumstance which he found no more comfortable than the notoriety of his curse. Still, the money urged upon him by a "grateful" Ministry - which he privately thought of as hush money to keep him from complaining about the way the Ministry had caused him to suffer in the past, now that he was celebrated as "Harry Potter's Friend, Mentor, and Surrogate Father" - allowed him some small degree of freedom for the first time in his life. He didn't turn it down as he once might have, in a vain show of pride; instead he accepted it with graciousness touched only faintly with irony, donated half of it to a charity for lycanthropy victims, and with the rest he disappeared for an entire year, traveling the world as he had once dreamed of doing. Not in luxury, but at least with the security of knowing where his next meal was coming from and that he could arrange a "safe" location during each full moon. And so he circled the globe as the Moon circled the Earth, seeking answers he knew that he would never find, but searching for them despite knowing he was doomed to failure.
It was on a lazy, hot, humid, day in early June, almost exactly one year after Voldemort's destruction, that Fawkes found him on a white sand beach in Spain, his traveling nearly done and his money nearly spent. It surprised him, naturally, to have his langour suddenly and unexpectedly disrupted, and he looked up from his book with wide eyes as the beautiful Phoenix landed on the sand at his feet, trilling a pleasant greeting and extending a rolled up parchment toward him with one taloned claw.
"Well, hello," he said, smiling as Fawke's inclined his regal head, the noble bird apparently having no problem with playing the role of owl. Remus accepted the scroll gravely, unrolling the thick parchment with a small sense of foreboding. Whatever it contained was obviously from Dumbledore himself, and of some importance, although Remus had had very little contact with anyone in Wizarding England for the last year.
His amber eyes scanned the missive, widening in surprise as the words almost seemed to leap off the page at him, wonderful and yet unbelievable. He read it a second time just to be certain, a small, fierce curl of pleasure spreading through him as the words sank in, giving him a happiness such as he hadn't experienced in a very long time.
My Dear Remus --
As Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it is my honor to extend to you an offer of employment in the position of Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, for the upcoming school year. Due to certain new legislation which has been passed by the Ministry of Magic - in no small part due to your exemplary record during the war and the repeated insistence of Harry - your lycanthropy is no longer considered a valid basis upon which to exclude you from appointment to a post for which you are uniquely and overwhelmingly qualified.
I suspect you probably have many questions, mostly having to do with whether the students - and their parents - will accept you, but rest assured that these issues have been addressed. I have a feeling you haven't been keeping up on the news from home, but Harry has made certain that you have received the recognition to which you are entitled for your service to the Order. Not monetary - although I know the Ministry tried to address that aspect for reasons not entirely altruistic - but socially as well. Certainly there are those who always will harbor prejudice against you for your lycanthropy, just as there are those who will always despise the Muggleborn. You might face some opposition, but I feel that you are up to dealing with it. Or at least, I certainly hope that you are.
The staff for the year will remain much as you knew it. Minerva, Filius, Hagrid, Severus, Sinistra and Sybill, as well as the addition of Oliver Wood as our new Quidditch coach as Hooch has a desire to travel much as you have been doing. Much as the outside has changed in a year, Hogwarts remains essentially the same, full of eager young minds who would benefit from your tutelage.
As a side note, I have arranged with Severus for him to provide you with the Wolfsbane potion each month as a side benefit of your employment. (And just so that you are aware, dear boy, he has not expressed any disgruntlement at your appointment this time, so you need not be concerned on that score). In fact, Severus has made some passing mention of enhancements he would like to make to the potion, for which he would need your cooperation. Given that the war is over, I am certain that you two can reach some sort of equitable arrangement between yourselves on the matter, and so I shall leave it in your capable hands.
I have sent this offer letter via Fawkes, as I was quite certain he would be able to locate you without an address; added to the fact that he quite likes you and assured me that you always have the best chocolate, no matter where you happen to be. If you would be so kind please send your reply via him as well, so that I can firm up the teaching schedule for the upcoming year.
Congratulations, my dear boy. You are an excellent teacher, and have a rare and gifted way with children. I look forward greatly to having you on Staff once again.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Looking up from the parchment finally, Remus smiled widely at Fawkes, who seemed to incline his head in amusement at the fierce grin on Remus' face. "I'm going home, Fawkes," Remus murmured, more to himself than to the Phoenix - although he reached into his bag almost absently, pulling out a bar of Belgian Dark and breaking off a piece for his messenger. "It's real. I'm finally going home."
As he spoke the words, Remus realized exactly how true they were. Hogwarts was and always had been the center of yet another great circle in his life, one that twice now had carried him toward someone who meant a great deal to him, someone who was the focus of desire and guilt, affection and frustration, admiration and dismay. Always the circle had carried him away again, frustrated and unfulfilled, and in circumstances that were always painful and regrettable and left him aching the feeling of something special that remained just beyond his grasp. Now it appeared that the circle was beginning again, carrying him back to England, back to Hogwarts. Back once more to the orbit Remus' secret desire, and his ever-unattainable dream. Back to the enigma and enticement that was Severus Snape.
If he were very, very lucky, perhaps the third time would, finally, be the charm.
Prologue
Word Count: 2534
Remus Lupin often thought that his life was a study in circles.
His life seemed to move in circles, at any rate, with ups and downs, peaks and valleys along the way, but always eventually leading him precisely, inevitably back to where he had begun. He had started out as a child with very few friends because of his curse, then had gone to Hogwarts and, miraculously, gained friendship in full measure. After nine happy years, however, he was left ripped asunder, devastated, and - once more - without companionship. A circle of sorrow.
The same cycle was true of his various attempts to support himself throughout his adult life. Each new job was held for some variable but usually brief time, until his condition was discovered or his absences due to illness caused him to once more enter the ranks of the unemployed. He had done so many different types of work over the years that he could no longer recall them all, could no longer remember how many different places he had labored at nor how many different, nameless faces had given him the sack, with expressions varying from disgust to vague pity. For an intelligent man who wanted desperately to be self-sufficient, who wanted to be accepted on the basis of what he could do, rather than what he was, it was both frustrating and extremely disheartening; a circle of humiliation.
Of lovers Remus had had relatively few, especially for a single man of his age who was not unattractive and extremely well read. His penurious circumstances had something to do with it, certainly, but so did his own selectivity in his partners. It wasn't just that he was gay, but that he felt honor-bound to reveal his lycanthropy before becoming intimate with someone, not wishing to face the horror of trying to explain after the fact that he was a Dark Creature to someone who might be interested in developing a longer term relationship with him. His average, he figured, was about fifty percent, between those who retained a desire to have sex with him after finding out that he was a werewolf and those who were completely repulsed. Of course even getting to the point to where he would confess his condition to a potential partner was somewhat problematic; therefore he was denied not only companionship, but the physical release that most humans took for granted as a normal, natural part of their lives. A circle of intense loneliness.
All of these dizzying repetitions, however, revolved in a circle all their own, whose center was a great, ghostly orb in the sky; a fickle, inescapable mistress who owned his soul as she owned his body once every month. Ever changing in her appearance and yet always there, always present, always haunting him and hunting him no matter how fast he ran or how hard he tried to hide.
Remus could remember a time when he had been quite small, sitting with his parents on the shores of a quiet, secluded lake, looking out across the still expanse of night-dark water and watching the full moon rise in silvery splendor, reflected double in the mirror of the water below. The soft light had seemed magical, fascinating, enchanting, making him reach up with one small, childish hand as though he could capture the radiant orb in his fist, pull it down from the sky and put it in his pocket like a vast, secret treasure. Of course that had been nothing but a silly, childish whimsy, an innocent dream from a time in his life before the silver orb came to symbolize not magic, but death, denial, and despair.
After all these years Remus knew the phases of it like the beating of his own heart, like the pulsing of his blood; could feel it as it rose, no matter what time of the day or night, no matter the season or the weather or the phase of her inconstant face. If he were alone in the silent woods, he could close his eyes and point unerringly to where the distant globe dwelt in the sky, like a compass finding north, drawn inexorably to it. His bane, his torment, his curse... the cold, pale goddess that ruled his life in an unchanging rhythm.
Were he a different man, a man who took less joy in living, or one who found less wonder in the rest of the world and its people, Remus would find it so incredibly easy to do what so many of his kind did - end their lives, removing the torment which plagued them, unable to live with the beast they became, with the hate and suspicion of the world of Men and the world of Wizards. But those people, though misguided, were more noble - or so he had always thought - than the ones who gave in to the savagery, let it control them, dominate them; used it as an excuse to be as brutal the rest of the time as they were when the pale goddess pulled the beast forth from their bodies and set it free to ravage under Her light.
Then there were the few like himself, who viewed their lycanthropy as a disease, a curse, a torment... but did not see it as the end of their lives. It was merely something to be lived with, to be dealt with when at hand and ignored - as best as possible - the rest of the time. It was what they became, but not who they were, not inside where it truly mattered, not in their hearts and minds and souls. But it still meant a separation, a loneliness from which he had known respite so rarely that he felt he could count the occasions on the fingers of one hand, and have fingers left over.
It was not surprising, of course, that Remus' boggart took the form of the moon. What person would not fear a cold, heartless force of nature which wracked their body with pain, stripped them of their humanity, and set free horrific, primal urges which drove them to maim and kill? The moon that haunted his days and made his nights restless, filling them with agonizing dreams in which he hurt those around him, the people that he loved. Was it any wonder that his inner demons were spawned by the external power which drove him, changed him, destroyed and remade him every twenty-nine days in a rhythm as inescapable as the tides or the change of seasons? Remus decided that any lycanthrope who didn't fear the moon as he did must be evil indeed. Evil, or at least completely insane.
The single thing which made his curse at once bearable and yet at the same time completely maddening was its predictability, the cycle as regular it was undeniable, as foreseeable as it was compulsory. Remus knew to the minute when the Change would begin, knew the warning signs with a familiarity that bred not contempt but resignation. The Wolfsbane potion - when he could get it - allowed him to keep his mind, but it did nothing to take away the agony of his transformation. Still he would rather have it than go without it, not so much because it allowed him to retain his awareness - although that certainly was preferable to the alternative - but because it meant that he wasn't a danger to anyone else.
Not all the circles in his life were bad, certainly: the cycle which had completed with Voldemort's destruction, his final, ultimate destruction at the hands of Harry Potter was certainly worth celebrating. While Voldemort's death could not undo the evils that had been done nor bring back those who had fallen, it did, at least, bring a certain amount of closure to some unresolved issues in Remus' life. A resolution which had been long and painful in the coming to be sure, but welcome nonetheless. A circle finally closed, never to repeat again.
After the Dark Lord's fall, Remus was even the focus of some small, fleeting bit of fame as a hero of the Order of the Phoenix, an unusual circumstance which he found no more comfortable than the notoriety of his curse. Still, the money urged upon him by a "grateful" Ministry - which he privately thought of as hush money to keep him from complaining about the way the Ministry had caused him to suffer in the past, now that he was celebrated as "Harry Potter's Friend, Mentor, and Surrogate Father" - allowed him some small degree of freedom for the first time in his life. He didn't turn it down as he once might have, in a vain show of pride; instead he accepted it with graciousness touched only faintly with irony, donated half of it to a charity for lycanthropy victims, and with the rest he disappeared for an entire year, traveling the world as he had once dreamed of doing. Not in luxury, but at least with the security of knowing where his next meal was coming from and that he could arrange a "safe" location during each full moon. And so he circled the globe as the Moon circled the Earth, seeking answers he knew that he would never find, but searching for them despite knowing he was doomed to failure.
It was on a lazy, hot, humid, day in early June, almost exactly one year after Voldemort's destruction, that Fawkes found him on a white sand beach in Spain, his traveling nearly done and his money nearly spent. It surprised him, naturally, to have his langour suddenly and unexpectedly disrupted, and he looked up from his book with wide eyes as the beautiful Phoenix landed on the sand at his feet, trilling a pleasant greeting and extending a rolled up parchment toward him with one taloned claw.
"Well, hello," he said, smiling as Fawke's inclined his regal head, the noble bird apparently having no problem with playing the role of owl. Remus accepted the scroll gravely, unrolling the thick parchment with a small sense of foreboding. Whatever it contained was obviously from Dumbledore himself, and of some importance, although Remus had had very little contact with anyone in Wizarding England for the last year.
His amber eyes scanned the missive, widening in surprise as the words almost seemed to leap off the page at him, wonderful and yet unbelievable. He read it a second time just to be certain, a small, fierce curl of pleasure spreading through him as the words sank in, giving him a happiness such as he hadn't experienced in a very long time.
My Dear Remus --
As Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it is my honor to extend to you an offer of employment in the position of Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, for the upcoming school year. Due to certain new legislation which has been passed by the Ministry of Magic - in no small part due to your exemplary record during the war and the repeated insistence of Harry - your lycanthropy is no longer considered a valid basis upon which to exclude you from appointment to a post for which you are uniquely and overwhelmingly qualified.
I suspect you probably have many questions, mostly having to do with whether the students - and their parents - will accept you, but rest assured that these issues have been addressed. I have a feeling you haven't been keeping up on the news from home, but Harry has made certain that you have received the recognition to which you are entitled for your service to the Order. Not monetary - although I know the Ministry tried to address that aspect for reasons not entirely altruistic - but socially as well. Certainly there are those who always will harbor prejudice against you for your lycanthropy, just as there are those who will always despise the Muggleborn. You might face some opposition, but I feel that you are up to dealing with it. Or at least, I certainly hope that you are.
The staff for the year will remain much as you knew it. Minerva, Filius, Hagrid, Severus, Sinistra and Sybill, as well as the addition of Oliver Wood as our new Quidditch coach as Hooch has a desire to travel much as you have been doing. Much as the outside has changed in a year, Hogwarts remains essentially the same, full of eager young minds who would benefit from your tutelage.
As a side note, I have arranged with Severus for him to provide you with the Wolfsbane potion each month as a side benefit of your employment. (And just so that you are aware, dear boy, he has not expressed any disgruntlement at your appointment this time, so you need not be concerned on that score). In fact, Severus has made some passing mention of enhancements he would like to make to the potion, for which he would need your cooperation. Given that the war is over, I am certain that you two can reach some sort of equitable arrangement between yourselves on the matter, and so I shall leave it in your capable hands.
I have sent this offer letter via Fawkes, as I was quite certain he would be able to locate you without an address; added to the fact that he quite likes you and assured me that you always have the best chocolate, no matter where you happen to be. If you would be so kind please send your reply via him as well, so that I can firm up the teaching schedule for the upcoming year.
Congratulations, my dear boy. You are an excellent teacher, and have a rare and gifted way with children. I look forward greatly to having you on Staff once again.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Looking up from the parchment finally, Remus smiled widely at Fawkes, who seemed to incline his head in amusement at the fierce grin on Remus' face. "I'm going home, Fawkes," Remus murmured, more to himself than to the Phoenix - although he reached into his bag almost absently, pulling out a bar of Belgian Dark and breaking off a piece for his messenger. "It's real. I'm finally going home."
As he spoke the words, Remus realized exactly how true they were. Hogwarts was and always had been the center of yet another great circle in his life, one that twice now had carried him toward someone who meant a great deal to him, someone who was the focus of desire and guilt, affection and frustration, admiration and dismay. Always the circle had carried him away again, frustrated and unfulfilled, and in circumstances that were always painful and regrettable and left him aching the feeling of something special that remained just beyond his grasp. Now it appeared that the circle was beginning again, carrying him back to England, back to Hogwarts. Back once more to the orbit Remus' secret desire, and his ever-unattainable dream. Back to the enigma and enticement that was Severus Snape.
If he were very, very lucky, perhaps the third time would, finally, be the charm.
